


Dumb Flowers

by snibnoom



Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Gen, The rating is for language, i'm surprised i did this two sundays in a row, one shot sunday returns, the rest of it is literally just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 11:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snibnoom/pseuds/snibnoom
Summary: A boy buys flowers for his roommate.  The roommate gives away the flowers, much to the confusion of the receiver.  Word spreads, and all of this mess is because of some dumb flowers.





	Dumb Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> I can't take credit for this idea, which was inspired by [this post](http://nixhil.tumblr.com/post/145903185509/flower-shop-au). I decided to write this after some [good](https://pupkitty-moonbin.tumblr.com/) [friends](http://moon-hyuks.tumblr.com/) brought it up and spurred the idea. Hope you enjoy!

Minhyuk can _not_ believe Bin. The last of Minhyuk’s favorite ramen had been gone last night, and Bin had just admitted to eating it like it was nothing. Like it was okay! When Bin left for work this morning at the coffee shop down their street, Minhyuk took action. He slipped his hand into Bin’s piggy bank, took out a bundle of paper money, and now here he is. Minhyuk pushes open the door to the flower shop and heads straight for the counter, ignoring the looks he gets due to his stomping.

Minhyuk puts his hand down on the counter heavily, scaring the poor worker sitting behind it. He picks up his hand, bowing his head in a silent apology, before putting it down again more softly.

“How do I passively-aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flower?”

The worker immediately looks taken aback by the foul language, and the blush on his cheeks gets more and more pink the longer he looks at Minhyuk. This only causes a sigh from the aggravated young man.

“The language of flowers,” Minhyuk says, his exasperation clear in his voice. “I read once that flowers mean certain things, and this was the best way I could think of to use my friend’s money. He ate the last of my favorite ramen last night. I need to passive-aggressively tell him to fuck off while spending his saved up money.” Minhyuk waves the wad of bills in the air.

There’s a ding, and Minhyuk looks over his shoulder. The door has swung closed. In fact, the shop is now empty aside from himself and the worker. Minhyuk looks back at the boy, squinting to read the name tag pinned to his apron.

“Sanha, I _need_ this,” Minhyuk pleads. He sets the bills down on the counter. “The biggest, meanest bouquet I can get for this much money. As long as it means ‘fuck you’ in flower.”

“I, um,” Sanha stammers, the first sound he’s made since the other boy arrived in the store. Minhyuk tilts his head to the side, waiting patiently.

“I don’t know the meanings of flowers.”

Minhyuk whines. His hands rest on the edge of the counter and he squats, almost disappearing from view. Sanha sits forward, and just as he does, Minhyuk stands up again quickly. The sudden movement scares Sanha. Minhyuk feels a little bad about having scared him again.

“Sorry,” Minhyuk mutters. “I didn’t mean to do that again.” He pauses, thinking.

 _This boy is cute_ is his first thought, but he shakes his head a little, looking at the counter. “Can you, um, look it up or something? I really need to get back at my friend.”

******

Sanha is more than a little taken aback by the situation. He looks at the bills on the counter. Slowly, he moves forward to grab them, almost worried that the other is going to jump out at him. He unrolls the bills and counts them, his eyebrows disappearing into the hair on his forehead when he starts counting higher and higher.

“For _all_ of this money?” Sanha asks. “That’s going to be a huge bouquet.”

“Can you do it?” the customer asks, and Sanha is hesitant. He nods after a moment, though, because this customer is cute and frustrated. His heart pounds, though, when the customer smiles. Despite all the scares he’s been given, Sanha is more than willing to help out this customer to the best of his abilities.

“You can take a look around,” Sanha says, gesturing to the shop. It isn’t _his_ shop, necessarily. It used to belong to his mother, but now Sanha runs it most of the time in the summers, though there is one other employee that works with him. Sanha pulls out his phone from the small desk space under the counter, as well as a notepad and a pen. He begins researching, trying not to watch the only customer in his shop roam around. It’s a little hard to, though, when he’s tan and wearing a tank top.

Sanha has to ask a few clarifying questions when doing his research. He jots down ones that are quite obvious; he’ll need to incorporate yellow carnations, which mean _you have disappointed me_ ; geraniums are also probably a good idea, since they mean _stupidity_. Sanha runs this idea by his customer, who smiles and says, “Yeah, that’s a good one.” He keeps opening new links and scrolling around. Sanha asks if the other wants a flower that means insincerity or inconsiderate, the corresponding flowers both being ones that would work well with yellow carnations and geraniums.

“Insincerity, please.”

The response makes Sanha laugh, which in turn causes the other to look at him. He bites his bottom lip and ducks his head. It’s hard to ignore the bright smile he gets from the other. _Is he flirting with me?_ Sanha thinks. Flirting has always been a hard thing for Sanha to determine. He decides that it’s not important right now.

When he knows all the flowers he needs, Sanha begins to gather them from the shop and arrange them in a very intricate vase. The cute customer watches intently from the bench beside the shop’s only door. Being watched is only a minor distraction. Sanha returns to behind the counter when he’s done and pulls out one of the nice ink pens they keep on hand for the customers to write notes. Instead, though, Sanha begins to carefully write down the meaning of each of the flowers. He calls over the customer, gesturing with the pen.

“You should write, um, _that_ at the top,” Sanha says, unable to make himself say the word.

The customer understands, thankfully, and tucks the card into the flowers. “Thanks so much,” the customer says. “Oh, and you can keep all the money. It’s probably more than necessary, but it’s okay.”

Sanha watches as the strange customer picks up the heavy vase and heads for the door. The customer _winks_ at him on his way out. Sanha’s hands immediately fly to cover his mouth, but the surprised squeak leaves him anyway. The customer is laughing, and then he’s gone.

******

Bin arrives home to an empty apartment. He removes his shoes by the door as normal and undoes the top buttons of his shirt. As he walks into the main area of the apartment, though, he notices something _very_ different. A multicolored bouquet of flowers sits in the center of the small square table that serves as a coffee table. Bin goes to the couch, sinking into the cushions gently. Did Minhyuk buy these? Bin doesn’t remember buying them himself.

“They’re kinda pretty,” Bin says. He pulls out his phone, sending a text message to his best friend to ask if he bought them. He turns on their average sized television and clicks through channels, unwinding and wasting time as he waits for a response. As he waits, he also wonders what the purpose of the flowers is. Did Minhyuk plan to give them to someone? Should Bin give them to someone instead?

After an entire hour passes and Bin hasn’t received a response, he sighs. The flowers, though pretty, are kind of an eyesore. He also knows that neither of them will take care of the flowers after the first few days. It would be a shame to let them dry out and wilt so soon after they were put in the very expensive looking vase. Where did Minhyuk get the money for the flowers, anyway? Bin shakes his head. His best friend’s antics aren’t his concern. The college freshman is always busy, so Bin guesses he must have a job. He hasn’t seen him for more than a few hours in the last week, after all. Whether he bought them with saved money or stole them, Bin needs to get rid of them. There’s no way he’s letting Minhyuk keep flowers. His mom’s birthday isn’t even around this time. Seriously, what are these _for_?

Bin makes up his mind. He stands, carefully lifting the vase of flowers. His shoes are hard to put on without the help of his hands. Bin decides to just stick his feet in as best as he can and lets his heels flatten the back end of his sneakers. His shoes are kind of like makeshift sneakers like this, now.

Should he really be doing this? Bin bites his lip as he walks down the hall carefully. He and Minhyuk live in apartment 326, and just two doors down lives the cutest boy Bin has probably ever seen. Cute isn’t really the right word. _Handsome_ is what Bin thinks every time he sees this young man. He’s only exchanged a few words with him. Honestly, Bin tries to avoid him as much as possible. It’s intimidating to be around someone that handsome. Just as he passes door 328, Bin freezes. This is definitely a bad idea. He turns around, walking back to his door, though he hesitates outside. No, this is a fantastic idea. He hasn’t been the nicest to his neighbor (who he knows is name Lee Dongmin; Bin totally didn’t look in his mailbox once downstairs to find out his name). Bin walks towards apartment 330 again, hesitating once more. As he lifts his hand to knock, though, he hears a voice call his name.

“Moon Bin?”

******

As Dongmin waits, the other young man doesn’t turn. Dongmin raises a brow and walks closer. “Moon Bin,” he repeats, as he’s sure now that’s who the young man is. “That’s, uh, a lot of flowers,” Dongmin says, but again he gets no response. He’s watching his neighbor stand completely still in front of his door. It isn’t until Dongmin is a few feet away that he finally moves.

Dongmin is surprised by the move, too, because it’s so sudden. He turns in place, arms stretching out, holding the vase of flowers like it’s contaminated though it looks just fine. In fact, Dongmin quite likes the flowers. The yellow carnation sticking right out at him actually makes him smile a little. He doesn’t know what’s going on exactly, and he thinks he hears Moon Bin speak, though he can’t quite make out the words.

“Sorry, what was that?” Dongmin asks. The flower move, jolting towards him a little precariously. Dongmin raises his hands, ready to take the vase in case it begins to fall.

“My name is Moon Bin.” Dongmin stares at his neighbor, who isn’t looking at him in the slightest. _This is a peculiar situation_ , Dongmin thinks, but then his neighbor speaks again. “I got—uh, these are for you.”

Dongmin raises a brow, glancing away from his neighbor and to the flowers. “For me?” Instead of answering, the flowers are pushed more towards him. Dongmin reaches out, grabbing the vase carefully from the bottom. Almost as soon as he has a solid grip on them, his neighbor has let go and is hurriedly walking down the hall. Walking isn’t the right word for it. He’s scooting his feet along the floor, his shoulders pulled up around his head, and his hands in tight fists. When Moon Bin reaches his door, he types in the code and doesn’t even glance in Dongmin’s general direction before disappearing into apartment 326.

Confused, Dongmin looks at the flowers in his hands. He sighs and leans them into one arm. The door beeps when he types in his code wrong, so he has to try again. It pops open on his second try, and he discards his shoes. Dongmin walks to his kitchen and carefully puts the vase on the counter. When he removes his backpack, it’s with a groan. He really needs to find a way to put cushions on the straps. College books are not light. As he rubs his shoulder with one hand, he turns the vase with the other. A small card catches his attention. Is this a confession?

Dongmin really doesn’t understand why he was gifted a bouquet of flowers. He sets the card to the side for a moment, retrieving a bottle of water from his miniature refrigerator. The bottle in one hand and the card in the other, Dongmin sits at the table set up almost in his kitchen. He probably shouldn’t have been drinking water when opening the rather small card, because he nearly chokes.

******

“Wait, wait, start over.”

Jinwoo laughs again, holding onto the pole as the bus bumps across the road. He’s on his way to work at the coffee shop not very far from the flower shop where his best-friend-that’s-almost-his-boyfriend works. The bus rides tend to be the happiest time in Jinwoo’s day because he gets to share time with Myungjun. “Dongmin got home from school yesterday,” Jinwoo recounts. “He called me, and I thought it was kind of weird because he usually doesn’t call me until later. Anyway, apparently Bin was standing outside his door when he got home.”

“And Bin is his neighbor, right? He’s the one that makes the really good coffee, isn’t he?” Myungjun is just asking for clarification, of course, since he only knows Bin as the one who makes really good coffee. The comment still causes Jinwoo to roll his eyes anyway, letting out a sigh.

“Yes, that one. The one Dongmin never stops talking about. Well, Bin had this _huge_ bouquet of flowers with him. I mean, it was _giant_. Hang on, he sent me a photo.” Jinwoo switches the hand he’s holding onto the pole with and grabs his phone out of his pocket. He taps a little on it before showing the screen to Myungjun. It immediately causes Myungjun’s eyes to widen. He’s floundering to find words.

Jinwoo laughs at his friend’s expression. “Yeah, I know. There was a little card stuck on it, too, and Dongmin—” Jinwoo cuts off, laughing again. “Dongmin must have done something really bad in his past life, because the card has all the flower types listed _and_ their meanings. They were all really mean. Like, one of them meant uselessness and another literally meant hatred.”

“Hatred?” Myungjun exclaims, holding his stomach as he dissolves into laughter. “You’re kidding! Wow, poor Dongmin. He has a crush on this guy, and he gets flowers from him, finally, just to find out that the guy hates him.”

“I don’t think that was the case,” Jinwoo says. “Dongmin was confused, so he did what Dongmin does and put his shoes back on. When he got down the call, he heard yelling from inside Bin’s apartment. His roommate must have gotten home, and they were yelling about ramen and money. Dongmin said he would’ve guessed they were an old married couple if he didn’t know better.” Jinwoo shakes his head. The situation is just so strange.

As Myungjun falls into thought, Jinwoo watches him (discreetly, of course). He kind of wants to do something nice for Myungjun like buy him flowers, too. Jinwoo would buy flowers with a nice meaning, of course, and he would probably write a cute note to Myungjun instead of listing all of the meanings of the flowers. His leg is tapped and Jinwoo looks down, realizing that the tap had come from Myungjun. And Myungjun just beams.

“Did the note say anything else?”

******

Myungjun asks the question, quite curious if maybe some other explanation could be given. “Yeah, actually,” Jinwoo says, a smile on his face that makes Myungjun’s heart pound. He ignores his heart, of course, and focuses on the words Jinwoo is saying. He speaks quietly, though, so Myungjun almost has to strain. “Across the top of the note, it said ‘ _this is a bouquet of fuck you flowers_ ’.”

Myungjun pauses. “What, really? It really said that?” He can’t believe something so horrible would happen to someone as nice as Dongmin. He met Dongmin, once, when he had tagged along with Jinwoo who had to drop something off at his friend’s apartment. Myungjun looks outside, realizing that their bus stop is rather close. He wishes that he could spend the whole day on this bus, talking to the kind boy that he had made friends with on the bus route after the other had _literally_ fallen into his lap. Myungjun sighs as the bus rolls to a stop and people start to get off. He follows Jinwoo down the aisle and off the stairs, trying too hard to stare at anything other than the shape of Jinwoo’s shoulders under his thin button up.

“I’ll see you after work,” Jinwoo says, flashing another bright smile. Myungjun nods, smiling back, and he can almost pretend that they’re a couple when the other keeps saying things like this. Jinwoo takes off walking, and Myungjun has to go two blocks in the opposite direction. He knows that Jinwoo could stay on the bus until the next stop, but he never does, and Myungjun has to wonder why.

As he arrives at the flower shop, the younger employee is already there. His mother owns the shop, so Myungjun kind of expects the other to do more work. Myungjun, in the back room, fits the apron over his head and ties it loosely behind his back. They never have much business in the morning, so Myungjun sits on the stool beside his co-worker. He can see the younger boy glancing out of the window every so often, as if expecting someone.

“Is someone supposed to come in?” Myungjun asks, making Sanha jump. He raises a brow and puts his hand lightly on Sanha’s shoulder. “Hey, relax.” Sanha nods, quiet, but his eyes keep roaming down the street.

Myungjun removes his hand and leans back on his stool until his back touches the wall. The shop is quiet, so he fixes that. “My friend told me a funny story,” Myungjun says, catching Sanha’s attention. “Apparently, _his_ friend got a bouquet of flowers from a cute boy. But when my friend’s friend looked at the little card, it had the meaning of all the flowers written and they were all really mean. And, get this, there was some _really_ bad language written across the top.” Myungjun would’ve said it if not for Sanha’s young age. He knew the other boy was already 19, but that felt too young to Myungjun.

“Did he say what kind of flowers they were?” Sanha asks, and Myungjun gives him an odd look. Why does it matter?

“Um, he didn’t.” Myungjun sits forward. “Why? Did something happen that you’re not telling me about? Don’t hold back on gossip, Sanha. You know I live on it.”

His co-worker smiles. “Okay, yeah. Yesterday morning, before you got in, this, uh, customer came in.” Myungjun senses the hesitation in Sanha’s voice. Is the other waiting for this _customer_ to come back? He smirks a little.

“Was he cute?”

Myungjun giggles as he watches Sanha flounder, stumbling over his words and trying to hide his expression. “N-no!” Sanha yells finally. “He was just a customer. He came in here asking for a bouquet of flowers that had a nasty meaning. He said his roommate ate the last of his ramen, so he needed to use up all of his roommate’s money to buy it.”

Myungjun smiles and falls into thought. That lines up with what Dongmin had told Jinwoo that he heard. It was odd how the world worked, with the story connecting from the shop, to a boy, from the boy to Dongmin, then to Jinwoo. Now, here Myungjun is, telling his co-worker the story that he started. All because of some dumb flowers.

**Author's Note:**

> Written by Admin M at astrofantastic.tumblr.com


End file.
